Fame
by ItsWhatIWrite
Summary: Glee's  version of Fame. The idea has been bugging me forever, not sure if it's been done before. Starts freshman year, couples and characters will develop. Puckleberry, Fabrevans, Tartie, Bike, and others.


_I'm not sure if this has been done before but the idea has been bugging me forever so I decided to write out the first chapter. Don't worry, all characters (even the ones not in the first chapter) will make appearances. This Story is going to through the full four years. It will take a while for couples to develop but fyi, I can promise Puckleberry and you can probably see what direction I will going in after the first chapter. So enjoy...and review if you like! :)_

Fame

Chapter One-Auditions

"…It means no worries for the rest of your days. It's our problem-free philosophy. Hakuna Matata! Hakuna Matata? Yeah. It's our motto!" Fifteen year old Noah 'Puck' Puckerman moved methodically around the tiny kitchen, preparing breakfast just like he did every morning. "Josie!" He called out over his shoulder while using a spatula to divide the scrambled eggs onto the two plates in front of him.

"What!"

"Breakfast!" He added the bacon he'd gotten this morning from the small grocery store down the street and quickly smothered the strawberry jam on the piece of toast. "Hey brat! We don't have time to waste this morning!"

"Geez, could you yell any louder? I had to tie my shoes." The nine year old skipped her way into the kitchen and slipped into one of the three chairs at the table. Her eyes widened, "you made bacon?"

"Don't tell Ma."

"Oh no worries." She snickered, stuffing a strip into her mouth, "yeah, it's my motto."

Puck rolled his eyes and plopped down in the seat next to his sister, "hey, Lion King is the shit."

"Is that what 'badasses' think?"

"No cussing, brat. Now finish your breakfast, I gotta drop you off downstairs at Mrs. Greene's."

"But you just cussed!" Josie argued.

"Well I'm in charge!"

Josie rolled her eyes, "I hope you sing a better song for your audition than Hakuna Matata. That would be lame."

* * *

><p>On the other side of the city, fourteen year old Rachel Berry stood nervously in front of the mirror of her vanity. She'd set her alarm extra early this morning so she had time to not only complete her daily exercise regime but also practice several numbers on the baby grand piano in the family room for her audition.<p>

She viewed herself at all angles, turning slightly to the right before switching and turning to the left. Her hands smoothed out the invisible creases on her dark purple and black plaid skirt and adjusted her matching purple cardigan. She adjusted her necklace, straightening the Star of David charm.

She took a deep breath, "You're Rachel Barbra Berry, you were born to be one of the greatest piano players to ever attend New York's School of Performing Arts." _That's if I get in, _she added silently.

"Rachel?" Her father Leroy Puckerman called from the lower floor of the penthouse.

"Yes daddy?"

"Are you ready to go? We've got a cab waiting for you."

Rachel turned away from her reflection and hurriedly grabbed her book bag. She slipped her wallet and cell phone into the small front pocket and double checked to make sure the proper sheet music was placed in the gold folder in the other pocket. "I'm coming, daddy!"

She met both of her fathers at the bottom of the staircase and eyed them suspiciously, "I don't understand, why do you guys have your business suitcases with you?" Yes, the Berrys' had different suitcases for different travel occasions. Unfortunately for their daughter, Rachel hardly ever used her luggage. She couldn't remember the last time she went on vacation, let alone, the last time she went out of town for something that wasn't at all related to one of her fathers' professions.

Hiram Berry gave his father an apologetic smile, adjusting his tie in the small mirror by the coat rack. "Star, your daddy and I have to go out of town. There's a conference in Chicago and we'll be there until Tuesday."

"But what about my audition?"

"Oh sweetie, we have no doubts that you'll do fantastic. You've been playing the piano since you were three, we've paid for all the best lessons, we expect nothing less than acceptance letter." He opened the front door, "I've already called two cabs. Your father and I will call when we make it to Chicago."

* * *

><p>With his lucky pair of green and black Nike high tops in one hand and his book bag in the other, Mike Chang tip-toed across the hardwood floor. He froze suddenly, when he heard movement down the hall; he waited before he was sure it was nothing and continued on his way. He slipped out the apartment door and jogged down to the floor below just to make sure, before stopping and putting his shoes on.<p>

He pulled his bag over his shoulder and hurried down to the lobby of the apartment complex. He did his best to give the doorman a casual nod and pushed open the door. He hopped down the few steps and when his feet landed on the sidewalk he looked up at the busy morning hustle and bustle around him and grinned.

"Today's the day," he whispered. He spotted his best friend and the only other person that seemed to understand the importance of dance, "Yo Matty!"

Matt Rutherford looked up from his phone and grinned, "Did your parents see you?"

"Nope," Mike slipped his hands in his pockets. "Now let's go before they notice I'm gone. Next time they see me, I will have just auditioned for one of the greatest performing arts high schools in the country."

"That'll make two of us, bro."

* * *

><p>Tina Cohen-Chang walked nervously down the packed street, her mother flanked on one side of her and her father on the other. She was extremely nervous when she'd come to her parents with a packet and piles of reading on the New York School of Performing Arts she'd received from her guidance counselor. So when they both smiled and agreed that it would be a fantastic opportunity, she couldn't have been happier.<p>

As a child, she was painfully shy, and had even developed a bit of a stutter, but her parents had been very instrumental in letting her express her personality in a number of extra-curricular activities. She was still shy, but overtime, she'd managed to learn to express herself through singing, acting and dancing. She wanted to be a triple threat.

Of course, her gothic chic style was another way of expressing her personality and she didn't hold back for her audition. With the royal blue streaks strategically placed through her black locks, her hair was curled and left alone to frame her face. She'd chosen her favorite pair of fish-net gloves that ran up to her elbows, matched with a cute black skirt, a simple gray shirt and her worn in black high-top converse shoes.

They stopped outside of the entrance, finding a little space off to the side.

Leanne Cohen-Chang smiled at her youngest child, "oh sweetie, I'm so excited for you!"

Her father, James Cohen-Chang agreed with his wife, "we just want you to know, that no matter what, we are very proud of you."

Tina grinned and pulled her parents into a hug, "I know you guys are. I'm going to go sign-in, I'll call you guys after the audition."

* * *

><p>Sam Evans grabbed his guitar and jogged through the kitchen, grabbing a muffin, "gotta go, Mom!"<p>

Mrs. Evans grinned at her son, "call me as soon as you're done, ok?"

"Sure thing." He turned to the occupied kitchen table, "Molly, Drew, Jake and Bobby, see you later, Rugrats." Grinning as he heard the chorused byes and good-lucks from his younger siblings, he jogged down the steps from the backdoor and removed his bike from its lock. Muffin gone and guitar case over his shoulder, he mounted on his bike and started off towards the one audition that could change everything for his family.

Thankfully, he didn't live too far away. A quick ride on the subway and a few blocks down, he was chaining his bike to a pole and jogging up the steps to the New York School of Performing Arts. His worn shoes hit the top step and he looked up at the historic building, grinning. "Almost there," he whispered. Not paying attention, he took another step and ran right into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

Quinn Fabray nearly dropped her things as a body ran into her, she looked up when she heard the apology. Her scowl fell and she gave him a small smile, "it's ok. I suppose we're all in a hurry this morning."

Sam grinned shyly at the cute blonde in front of him, "yeah…it's a big day."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you don't want us to accompany you, darling?"<p>

Artie Abrams pushed his thick glasses back up the bridge of his nose and looked up at his sometimes too doting mother. "I'm sure, mom." _Just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean I'm incapable of making it to an audition on my own. _

Mrs. Abrams nodded, "I just don't want you to get lost."

"Mom, I know my way around the city and I've been working with the wheels for eight years now. I got it."

"I know sweetie, it's just…"

Artie shook his head, "It's just nothing. You shouldn't worry so much about me. And besides, Puck is meeting me there. I'll be fine."

"Oh yes, _Puck._ Where did you meet this mohawked individual again?"

The fifteen year old rolled his eyes, "at Rex's Guitar Center. Chill, mom. Puck is cool and I'll be cool getting to my audition. I'll call you later."

* * *

><p>Brittany S. Pierce walked through the huge school in a daze. With her registration papers in one hand and her purple bag with cats printed all over it, draped across her shoulders, she was absolutely ready for this audition.<p>

Dancing was her passion, her dream. It was the only thing she could honestly say she was good at; when she was dancing, people didn't look at her like she was stupid, they looked at her in awe. They looked at her with jealousy and admiration. It was the one thing she was better at than her sisters, the one thing she actually impressed her parents with. Dancing was her life.

She was going to make it into the New York School of Performing Arts where she was going to spend all four years, graduate and immediately get picked up by a world famous dance company. Oh and, find a few cute guys in the process.

She spoke with her cat, Lord Tubbington before she left home and told him that if he didn't read her diary, she'd make sure to buy him a new bed when she was rich and famous.

* * *

><p>Sam stood behind stage, away from the group and plucking at his guitar, humming under his breath.<p>

"Nervous?"

He looked up, his lips turning up into a grin, "A little. Following me?"

Quinn smiled and shook her head, "you would like that, wouldn't you?"

Before he got a chance to respond, his number was called. He jumped up, "I guess I'll see ya." He started walking and heard her call out 'good luck', he turned slightly, enough to make eye-contact, "you too."

Sam took a seat on the stool offered in the middle of the lit stage and pulled the guitar strap over his shoulder.

Shelby Corcoran finished scribbling notes from the previous person and looked up, "and what's your name?"

"Sam Evans."

"And what will you be singing for us today, Sam?"

"John Legend's _Ordinary People._"

Shelby raised a brow, "with a guitar?"

"Yeah. I know it's normally performed with a piano, I mean, John Legend is a musical genius…"

"No need to explain," Shelby interrupted. She curtly nodded, "just go ahead and start."

Sam nodded and positioned the guitar on his knee, he cleared his throat and started strumming lightly…

_Girl I'm in love with you  
>This ain't the honeymoon<br>Past the infatuation phase  
>Right in the thick of love<br>At times we get sick of love  
>It seems like we argue everyday…<em>

* * *

><p>Rachel strode with confidence into one of the classrooms designated for auditions. She gave the middle aged man sitting on the piano her bright, stage smile. "Good morning, I'm Rachel Berry." She held her hand out.<p>

Will Schuester stood up and held his hand out, offering a smile, "it's nice to meet you, Rachel. I'm Mr. Schuester." He gestured to the pulled out bench, "why don't you go ahead and take a seat so we can get started."

"Of course." Rachel carefully took the sheet music from her folder and adjusted it in front of her until she was comfortable with its placement.

"You can go ahead whenever you're ready."

She took a calming breath and placed her fingers delicately above the keys. Gaze on the sheet music, her fingers started dancing along the keys. A quarter of the way through the number, she closed her eyes, playing the song by memory. Her lips moved ever so lightly as she silently mouthed the words to the popular number.

"That's good," Mr. Schuester stopped her, a little more than halfway through the song.

Rachel's head shot up, her heart pounding, he didn't even let her finish. This was it, she shook her head, no, she wasn't giving up. "I can do better, I can do another song."

"I don't think you can do better." He grinned, "that was amazing!"

"Oh," Rachel straightened up, "thank you."

"I noticed you moving your lips, mouthing the words, do you sing?"

Rachel suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Unless someone was looking for it, they wouldn't have even noticed the slight nod she gave. "Sometimes, but my daddies and I agreed to the piano as my instrument of choice, so to speak."

"I see." Mr. Schuester scribbled a few things in his notebook and looked back up at Rachel, "well I can't give you anything official as of now, but expect a phone call in the near future."

* * *

><p>Puck casually skated between the thick crowd of prospective students along the sidewalk, he spotted just the person he was looking for. "Abrams!"<p>

Artie looked up and nodded his acknowledgement, "about time!"

Puck skidded to a stop and flipped his skateboard up, catching it effortlessly. "The brat was being an even bigger brat this morning."

"Who Josie?" Artie laughed, "that girl is an angel."

"Yeah, totally."

"Let's go, we still have to sign in."

Puck and Artie went their separate ways after registering; Puck towards the auditorium and Artie back to the elevator towards the third floor.

Artie grinned and wheeled himself off the elevator, he had done just fine so far without his overbearing mother's hovering antics. He knew she meant well, but there were times where she treated him like he was still seven and learning how to figure out life without legs that worked.

He wheeled down the hallway with his eyes scanning the room numbers; he stopped suddenly, finding room 320. Teenagers were spread about the room, whispering to themselves, going over monologues and pacing back and forth nervously. His eyes found an Asian girl with blue streaks going through her hair, she was leaning against some lockers and staring intently at her shoes that were tapping nervously.

"Acting with April Rhodes, right?"

Her head shot up and she looked at him, "w-w-what?"

Pushing his glasses back up, he grinned, "I wanna make sure I'm in the right place, this is April Rhodes' room? For acting?"

Tina nodded, "y-yeah."

"Nervous?"

"Aren't you?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "maybe just a bit." He grinned again, "but hey, if we both make it, at least we don't have to worry about the whole 'first day and I don't know anybody' moment." He held his hand out, "Artie Abrams."

Tina took his hand, "Tina Cohen-Chang."

"I like the blue in your hair." His eyes widened, "did I say that out loud?"

Tina laughed, "you did. But it's ok, I appreciate the compliment. Not a lot of people like it."

"Well I think it looks good."

* * *

><p>"Noah Puckerman?" Shelby Corcoran asked, eying the mohawk on top of the teen's head. "Is the hair for impression or to stand out?"<p>

"Nope." He ran his hand over the hairstyle he'd been sporting since he was twelve. "and I go by Puck."

Puck adjusted the guitar around his body and moved the stool out of the way, "I'm gonna sing a song by John Mayer called _Say…_

"_Take all of your wasted honor  
>Every little past frustration<br>Take all your so called problems  
>Better put 'em in quotations<em>

Say what you need to say  
>Say what you need to saaaay...<p>

Walking like a one man army  
>Fighting with the shadows in your head<br>Living out the same old moment  
>Knowing you'd be better off instead…<p>

* * *

><p>Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford go back almost four years. A simple shared karate class had turned into trying to out shine the other's Michael Jackson moves as they both waited for their mothers to pick them up. Their love for dance grew into a great friendship and they both dreamed of making it into the school of performing arts.<p>

For Matt, he was the middle child and only son; he had two younger sisters and two older sisters, so Mike was basically a brother to him. His parents were workaholics but always made time for their kids' extra-curricular activities.

Unfortunately for Mike, as an only child, his parents insisted he quit the 'dancing nonsense' and focus solely on school so he could be accepted into an Ivy League college and continue on to either law school or medical school. But that wasn't what Mike wanted; so he'd snuck out for the audition and just prayed that if he was accepted, his parents would accept his passion for dance.

"Ready bro?" Mike stuck out his fist.

Matt bumped his fist with Mike's, "let's do this."

Brittany put her belongings off to the side and entered the huge studio, she found a place next to two boys and waited patiently. She allowed herself to take in the other dancers…her competition.

"Ok ladies and gentlemen! There are hundreds of people trying out for a spot here, and only a select few will make it! So I want you to watch the choreography I set up for you and then the second time around you will show me what you got. This is your only chance, there are no do-overs!"

Brittany forced herself to focus intently on the instructor as the music started playing, her head bopped along and she grinned; these were her kinda dance moves.

* * *

><p>Quinn was one of the last to be called in for her audition and walked with confidence across the stage, "hello." She greeted the three teachers sitting down from her, a few rows back. "I'm Quinn Fabray."<p>

Shelby nodded, "well Quinn, you're one of our last auditions, so leave us with a good impression."

* * *

><p><em>Worth continuing? <em>


End file.
